Summer at the Malfoy House
by ohgodpleasesavemenonotthatone
Summary: Narcissa left Lucius after seeing him lose his temper towards Draco. They've been on their own for several years (with occasional joint public appearances). A summer conversation between a loving mother and Draco Malfoy. Also, Narcissa wants to thwart the Death Eaters, but has yet to have any effect.


Narcissa had slight lines in her forehead as she tried to read a book. She thought laughing at the expense of muggles would distract her from the state of her parlor. It did not. It was still elegant; however, it had visibly lost its luster. She reminded herself that she had no need of new furnishings. This remained a temporary arrangement, and besides, galleons should be saved where they could. Though, there was no telling when this arrangement would end. And still, she found the fading and now dated carpet more than a little distracting.

She took out a wizarding book and resettled herself in. Unfortunately, her eye caught a small tear in the sofa. There was no way to ignore that. She inspected it. It was small, almost not large enough to be seen. There must be a spell to repair it. She had not many occasions to use magic for this in the past and found herself at a loss as to where to begin. Narcissa remembered not having to do these things herself. She remembered having the help of house elves. She sighed. Instead of being distracted, she found herself searching for spells on housework.

As Narcissa was scouring the shelves, Draco came into the room. Without a word of greeting, he complained, "The Manor would never be in such a sorry state. There's a tear in the sofa! Everything's faded! If father knew about this…"

She cleared her throat, while perching herself on the much-abused sofa.

Draco turned red and mumbled an apology.

Narcissa raised her perfectly arched eyebrows, while motioning for Draco to join her. "My darling, tell me, how is school?"

He grumbled, "No complaints."

Narcissa took his hand in hers. "You know that tone does not befit your excellent heritage. Tell me what is wrong. And endeavor to be a bit more articulate, if you can, love."

"It's just… Hermione has higher marks than I do, and father was quite upset." He insisted, "Which isn't fair! She constantly has her nose stuck in a book! And she is chummy with the teachers!"

Narcissa's cool, loving demeanor began to falter. Her eyes narrowed and the corner of her lips hardened as she queried, "You spoke to your father?"

"Yes, he was at school," he paused, eyes widening with worry, "That is… he was there on my behalf. He took the chance to remind me… Are you angry with me as well?"

She smiled, stroked his chin and reassured him, "No, my dearest. Never with you. I simply need to have a talk with your father. I am excessively proud of how well you are doing. A true wizard."

His face smug, he agreed, "Yes, unlike that mudblood witch."

Lightning struck Narcissa from the ground up. " _Draco Malfoy!_ What have I taught you about using such an appalling word?!"

"But she—"

She stopped him and spit through teeth she had to unclench, "No excuses! There will be no such filth said in this house! Or your school!"

The words, "Father lets me do it," were written all over his face. He said nothing though. Narcissa thought best to let the matter drop, steering the conversation to other things.

The topic, unfortunately, resurfaced the next day. Draco had been enjoying luncheon. Narcissa let the flowers she had been arranging fall from her hands and scatter across the table.

"What do we say about that word, Draco?"

He clutched his spoon over his soup, his fingernails digging into his palm. "Never, under any circumstances, to use it."

As his mother, Narcissa decided to plead with him in a full emotional attack, for his own sake. "This is correct. You wish to get along with Potter and his friends, do you not?"

"Minus those dreadful Weasleys."

"Then you must control your tongue. No shouting slurs at people, or their friends."

Today, he couldn't resist. "But, mother, father allows me to yell whatever I like, at whomever I like! And your sister says that word too!"

Narcissa's eyes seemed to freeze over as she inquired, "And do you like how they, particularly your father, treat you? Should we move back in with him? Shall we reach out to your aunt Bellatrix and tell them to join us right now?"

Draco hesitated.

His mother continued, patting his arm, "You need not try this hard."

Draco tore his arm away. "You have no idea what you're talking about! I'll be just like them!"

"And cause others to feel the pain Lucius inflicts on you?"

What little color he had drained from Draco's face. He stared at the ground and looked as if he might cry, hence Narcissa pulled him in a tight embrace.

He started to whisper, "But, father—"

Narcissa interrupted with a gentle rebuke, "Remember, no excuses, my love. We must learn to get along with others, despite differences. Especially if we have strong feelings of attachment for them."

Draco gave an empty laugh, which tricked exactly neither of them.

"If you go on behaving like this, you will never make any progress."

He stepped back, studying the room. "No, I suppose not. But, mum, he makes me so angry! Always prancing around with that mob of his… They all think they're so brilliant and cool. I just want to remind them they're not as fantastic as they believe they are!"

"Noting how you go on about them," she quipped, "I expect you share their high opinion."

Draco was aghast. His eyebrows crinkled, his mouth formed a line that dropped open as he tried to formulate a reply.

She hid a smile behind her hand, stifling a laugh. "Your feelings toward the Boy-Who-Lived are rather apparent. Considering everything, might his self-importance be justified?"

Draco still stood silent, mouth slightly ajar. Narcissa decided to let this pass without comment.

"I think that your feelings for him might be too overwhelming. Perhaps you should start elsewhere? Is there another boy who has caught your fancy? Someone in Slytherin? That would be a better place to begin." Besides, she added silently, the last thing that motherless boy needs is to be at constant war with an entire House.

Draco sighed, "Not another boy, no."

"Oh? Then who? Trust me, I shall always keep you and your secrets safe," coaxed Narcissa.

Draco looked somewhat doubtful, and made a face, yet admitted, "It's Hermione. Harry's awful friend."

Narcissa swept her palm over her temple and asked, "Not the girl who came up yesterday? The one with the better marks?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, her. The mu… part of the trio."

"Didn't she also hit you?"

"Yes, but _not_ because I called her that word!" he asserted.

Narcissa's nostrils flared a miniscule bit as she expelled all her carbon dioxide and accepted fate. "Yes, I remember, we have discussed this before. What do you like about her?"

"Sometimes I find myself wanting to pull on her curls. Or tell her to take better care of them. It looks like she's never conditioned them in her life! Honestly, mother. And, as I told you, she is excellent in school and loves books and learning. And she has these large brown eyes… Even with that disgraceful clump of hair, she's much prettier than Potter, and far too good for the likes of that Weasley."

"How do you expect either of them to return your interest without being nicer to them?"

"Maybe I don't want them to return it."

"My darling, do be serious."

"But, mum, it's not my fault! If they were better at legilimency, this wouldn't be happening. My thoughts are right there!"

Narcissa rejoined, "That may be true; however, do you believe they deserve to be treated the way you treat them?"

Draco's eyes became vacant. He fixed his gaze on a small piece of a worn rug without moving. Processing the conversation could take time, and so Narcissa gathered her flowers and went back to arranging. Draco could not continue to live here without it being more inviting. How could it have become this threadbare to begin with? And on her watch, nonetheless?

It was good for them not to speak. They had had so many versions of this conversation.

Draco could make the same mistakes!

Or worse, new ones! She clucked at her flowers.

And then, there was his safety to think about. She wished she was brave enough to reach out to her sister or her niece. Standing up to Bellatrix would have to come first. It seemed impossible, first because of their closeness, yet now because of Bellatrix's quickening loss of control. But it was for Draco. Anything could be done for his sake.

Except, it seemed, warning of the looming return of the Dark Lord. She was growing tired of him and his minions, her husband included. She wanted to shield Draco from their influence, though knowing it was likely too late. Sneaking information to someone who could do something with it was proving as difficult as fruitless. By the time she executed her plan to send a message that could not be traced back to her, that Harry boy already knew! What's worse, no one believed him! That made him and his allies her last hope. Though she had a personal dislike for their attitudes, she wanted Draco to befriend him. He would not be harmed. Not while she still lived.

Whatever happened, she would protect Draco from this. She must. Whatever it would take, she was ready. She had told her husband last summer, and she would remind him.

Narcissa looked down at her vases to see all the beautiful floral arrangements completed. If she could not change Draco's mind, at least she could distract him from larger things. She stole a glance at her son. He seemed entranced in thought. There was a chance she might be reaching him after all.

Her eyes on her flowers, she wondered aloud, "Perhaps there is something you forgot to tell me about school yesterday? How are your friends?"

He scoffed, "They're alright, I guess. Sometimes I find them rather boring. They never have an opinion of their own."

Narcissa made a mental of this as an answer to why he fell so hard for those so unlike him. "Have you considered expanding your social circle?"

Draco whined, "But, _mum_ , how could I? They always follow me around, everywhere! I can never get a moment away."

Narcissa took a sip of tea before responding, "Oh, how dreadful."

"And everyone always acts afraid of us. 'Look at those brutes with that brat,' they say. What am I supposed to do?"

"Are they indeed saying that? In Slytherin?"

"That perfect Potter and his friends are! And the students in Slytherin might as well all be echoes. Also, they have the strangest obsession with badges."

"I imagine his friends includes this intellectual giant, Hermione. Or, rather, I should say 'goddess'. Badges, really? When I was in school, we charmed banners. Maybe you could gift some of these badges to your lovers."

"Now, mum, do be serious."

"My sweet, a mother must tease while she still can. Besides, you hardly give me any opportunities anymore. It's not as if you'll allow me to pinch your cheeks, or embarrass you in public, or anything else a mother loves. I must take my maternal joy where I can."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother."

"You might consider telling your friends to try doing something for themselves. Besides the badges."

"It's not as if I haven't!" He insisted. "They simply refuse to leave me alone. It's like they're obsessed with me!"

"That sounds familiar. I wonder, what does that remind me of?" Narcissa jested, her eyes dazzling.

Then, she moved her brows in a way too elegant to be described as a "wiggle".

Draco abandoned the room in a start. No reply came to his lips and his expression underwent rapid changes. Narcissa laughed to herself. She carefully saved his leftovers, which included, as always, several of his favorite sweets. Afterwards, she spent several hours thinking over his comfort. After she made careful preparations, she concerned herself with her own.

The next day found Draco in a much more playful mood. Over breakfast, he made a joke about how, "His father would hear about this."

Narcissa laughed and returned, "Even your father knows your feelings for Harry Potter."

Draco felt thwarted by his mother's quick wit and swore to himself he would one day best her in verbal combat. It was sharper than any spell. Narcissa would have suffered a series of stunning defeats, had she known he wanted it. Instead, she was satisfied with finding a spellbook of household improvement. And, of course, sending her husband a howler. It was time she reminded him, they would not be returning until he could show their child due respect and kindness.

While refreshing the furnishings, Narcissa wondered whether to inform Draco his handling of romantic entanglements was beginning to remind her of Snape.


End file.
